


Fair Game

by Telya



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Angst, Blood, Dark, F/M, Mind Games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-29
Updated: 2015-08-22
Packaged: 2018-04-11 21:08:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4452434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telya/pseuds/Telya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Resurrected again it is not the puppet I seek to play with but you. So tell me, Tifa, are you game?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> The story's set 4 years after AC/ACC; the events of DoC have no bearing on it.
> 
> Many special thanks to my wonderful beta Moon Calf for her extraordinary commitment to put the finishing touches to my work. Fantastic job, my dear.
> 
> Disclaimer: This story is for entertainment purposes only. I don't own any of the characters. Would anybody believe me if I said I did? I thought so ;)
> 
> Enjoy!

An eerie stillness permeated the air. Silence reigned where words had been spoken just moments before.

Their lips a mere breath apart, ruby-red eyes locked onto emerald-green.

Then he was gone – soaring into the air, his majestic wing gleaming in the sunlight.

It was time to set the world on fire.

The young woman remained unmoving, staring at the place he had stood whilst midnight-black feathers gracefully floated around her.

His voice in her head, whispering, enticing, spoke to her of what he wanted…what she wanted…

_‘Follow me…’_

She placed a slender hand on her heart, feeling its rapid beat and the blood racing in her veins.

_‘Come to me…’_

An all consuming fire ignited in her chest and spread throughout her body. Burning brighter than the purgatory that would be Gaia’s fate, its flames wouldn’t be quenched until the day they met again.

Lost in the memories of events past, she took the first step with only one thought in mind.

She would follow him…

to the ends of this world…

and beyond… …

to keep her promise…

Her promise…

…

…

_Her promise_


	2. Body

The moment Tifa Lockheart opened her eyes to a world of swirling green she knew that something was very wrong. 

The ground beneath her feet felt solid enough. Her surroundings looked just like she remembered them, yet…none of it could be real.

For this was the Planet’s Core – and it was no dream.

How she knew this, Tifa could not say…but every fibre of her being told her it was so. This was the place where they had fought the planet’s nemesis…and she was all alone.

Feeling more than a little unsettled, Tifa clenched and unclenched her hands. The sound of creaking leather made her look down and take in her attire. By the looks of it she was equipped and ready for battle. This made her frown, for she couldn’t remember when or why she had donned this gear in the first place.

Where had she been? What had she been doing before coming here?

Tifa desperately wracked her brain, but the answer stubbornly eluded her. She remembered some kind of blackout before finding herself in this place, but what had happened beforehand remained a mystery. Only a vague sense of urgency lingered in the back of her mind.

It was essential that she remembered. 

With each passing second, the urge grew stronger, intensifying the feeling of dread that settled in Tifa’s stomach.

However, any attempts to delve deeper into her mind were abruptly stalled. Absorbed in thought, she let out a startled cry when suddenly voices sounded all around her. Shocked as she was, it took her a moment to identify them – and even when she did, the recognition did nothing to quell the goose bumps rising on her skin.

Unbelieving, Tifa looked around, but saw nobody. Not entirely trusting her hearing, she choked out, “Guys, is that you? Where are you? Cloud?” With bated breath, she listened intently for a reply. There was none. Minutes passed, and Tifa was about to dismiss the voices as a figment of her imagination…when something changed. Sounding distant at first, the voices steadily grew louder until they became clearer and more distinguishable. 

And what they said… 

Tifa’s eyes widened in disbelief. The shouting was apparently directed at her.

_“Tifa? Tifa!...you hear me? Please…”_

Cloud

_“Tifa, you need to…”_

Vincent

_“Come on, Teef, what’s wrong… you?...”_

Yuffie

The anxious tone and barely-suppressed panic in her friends’ pleas frightened her to the core. Louder and louder still they grew, seemingly echoing from all directions at once, assaulting her senses. Tifa pressed her hands over her ears and screwed her eyes shut, the roar of disembodied voices beyond bearable–!

Then, just as she thought she could take no more of it, the noise abruptly faded into the background…and a single voice called out to her. Low, sensuous, and terrifyingly familiar, it reverberated through her body.

_‘Tifa’_

Eyes shooting wide open, Tifa felt her stomach twist into a giant knot. Momentarily forgetting how to breathe, she wrapped trembling arms around herself – as if to prevent her hammering heart from bursting out of her chest. Taking deliberately deep breaths, Tifa dared hope against hope that her mind had played a trick on her. After all, hadn’t she discerned earlier that she wasn’t dreaming? Nightmares…The Nightmare…had no place in the waking world, right? 

An amused chuckle was all it took to crush this feeble hope effortlessly. 

Tifa cringed at the sound. Memories she was currently trying hard to repress came to the forefront of her mind, but she fought them as best she could. This was neither the time nor the place to submit to the horror and fear they induced in her. It proved all the more difficult when an obviously-disturbed part of her mind came to a hysterical conclusion: remnants of His spirit might very well still be lingering in this place. 

Tifa squashed the thought as soon as it rose. Logic kicked in, assuring her of the impossibility. He was dead, defeated not only once but thrice. She knew this to be true and clung to it when doubt began to grow in her. Here she was, standing in a place that had been destroyed years ago, hearing voices not only of her friends but of her deceased enemy as well. It didn’t make any sense. Yet, there had to be an explanation. 

Had the terrors He had forced her to endure finally taken its toll on her body? Was she hallucinating? Had she hit her head or…was she possibly even at death’s door? 

Tifa gulped. She had a bad feeling about this. 

Glancing around and finding herself still alone, Tifa gathered her courage. Whatever this was, she would confront it head-on. She would do anything and everything to make sure it wasn’t Him she was dealing with here – it _couldn’t_ be!

Steeling her resolve – and banishing the absurd notion that _something_ was watching her, waiting for her to speak – Tifa demanded, “Show yourself, you coward.”

She didn’t want to say His name out loud, lest she unwittingly summoned His spirit into existence. All the same, Tifa felt rather ridiculous for talking to thin air. This feeling, however, morphed into something else when a smooth baritone answered her.

_“All in good time, Tifa. All in good time.”_

It was then that she felt it: an oppressive presence, slowly closing in on her, choking her, crushing her. The hairs on her arms and neck stood on end, her body shuddered with fear, her mind shut down. Still, Tifa refused to face the truth. Shaking her head in denial, she backed away. Any minute now, she would wake up from this nightmare…escape this horrendously familiar presence…

_Sephiroth_

Close to an anxiety attack, Tifa struggled to get her mind working properly again. At the moment, it was tormenting her with incoherent images of her painful encounters with the former General. Added to this gruesome recollection, the prospect of another clash made her fear the worst. Amidst all the horrible memories, however, there was one that stopped the downward spiral of fear. One that gave her some much needed confidence and, dare she say it, hope – hope to handle this situation she had been unwillingly placed into.

It didn’t matter how all of this was possible or how she came to be here: Tifa intended to end it here and now. She had dealt with something like this before; she could do so again. Narrowing her eyes, she addressed Sephiroth in a strong and unwavering voice.  

“This is nothing but an illusion. You have no power here.”

 _“Oh?”_ He sounded amused. _“You’ll find that I have.”_  

Determined to ignore His comment, Tifa turned towards the small rocks that served as the spiralling staircase she and her friends had used to enter the Planet’s Core. Now they would help her get out of here.

She strode over to the bottommost ‘stair’ and stepped onto it…or tried, that is. Her foot went right through it, making her stumble. It was only due to her fast reflexes that she managed to find her balance before falling off the edge. Wide-eyed and paling rapidly, she stared at the deceivingly solid rocks leading to the surface. It seemed as if her surroundings were illusions after all. Part of them, at least. With that thought came the sickening realization that she was trapped. 

As if reading her thoughts, Sephiroth chuckled darkly. 

With her heart pounding in her throat, Tifa whirled around, frantically searching the space around her for another way out.

He seemed to delight in her despair, for His voice dripped with satisfaction as He said, _“I can’t have you leave before we’re done, now can I? And we have only just begun.”_ As an afterthought He added, _“We play by my rules here, you know?_  

Upset, Tifa didn’t bother to hide the anxiety in her voice as she shouted, “What game are you playing?“

 _“The only one worth playing.”_  

His voice, so calm and collected, belied the danger in His words. She felt something shift and knew that battle was approaching. Knowing His actions to be unpredictable, Tifa let her fighter’s instincts take over. She had no illusions about winning against Him, but she’d be damned if she let Him defeat her easily! So she settled into a defensive stance and got ready to face whatever would come her way.

She didn’t have to wait for long. 

A tiny orb of impenetrable darkness appeared an arm length away from her, floating at eye level. Putting as much distance as possible between them, Tifa clenched her fists and pursed her lips in grim determination. The orb, meanwhile, increased in size, gradually changing its shape into that of a human body. 

Tall, broad shoulders, muscled chest, short hair, it wasn’t Sephiroth who took shape before her eyes…

It was Loz. 

He grinned at her in eager anticipation and Tifa felt as if she had travelled back in time. Memories of their fight in Aerith’s church overlapped with the present, and Tifa found herself momentarily losing her focus.

It was Sephiroth’s voice that brought her back to the here and now.

_“I want you to show me, Tifa. Show me the strength you can muster.”_

Frowning, Tifa locked gazes with Loz. Upon seeing the bloodlust in his eyes, she pushed Sephiroth’s cryptic message into the back of her mind. She definitely had other things to worry about right now. They settled into a fighting stance.

 _“Don’t disappoint me, Tifa,”_ Sephiroth’s final words echoed in her head. 

Then Loz charged. 

His onslaught was unbelievably hard and fast, yet it was nothing compared to the onslaught on her ears. As soon as Sephiroth’s voice had faded into the background, her friends’ voices had returned with a vengeance. Ever rising in volume, the crescendo made her ears ring. The shouting and cursing didn’t even seem to be directed at her anymore, but it threatened to break her concentration nonetheless.

Loz was clearly enjoying himself and smirked in delight as he attacked her with vigorous strength. He was probably beside himself with joy, Tifa thought bitterly, having the chance to ‘play’ with her again. Unlike their last fight, however, she had a hard time keeping up with him. Both the burly man’s strength and speed seemed to have abnormally increased, forcing her on the defence more often than not. It made her wonder if he had held back that time in the church…or if this surreal place somehow provided him with a power she could only dream of. 

Tifa dodged and blocked, attacked and withdrew. It took everything she had just to keep him at bay. Pressed as she was, she should have known better than to divide her attention when facing such a foe. She couldn’t, however, detach herself completely from the noise around her.

She couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that she was supposed to be with her friends. They needed herand it was crucial she remembered why…before it was too late. 

Thus, with her focus divided, all it took was a high pitched shriek – _Yuffie’s_ she presumed – for her to falter for a split second. Her guard dropped and a vicious blow hit her left shoulder, almost dislocating it. Tifa gritted her teeth at the white-hot pain searing her arm. Mocking laughter reached her ears and something inside her snapped.

She had had enough of this. Fury overwhelmed the martial artist’s senses, making it suddenly quite easy to block out those annoying voices. Tifa stopped thinking, stopped caring about the less than favourable circumstances, stopped worrying that she wasn’t strong enough to overpower her opponent. Her vision narrowed down, solely focussing on the remnant of the man who seemed intent on tormenting her yet again. 

Her retaliation was swift and brutal, dealing blow upon blow on the granite wall that was Loz’s upper body. Staggering under the volley of fierce kicks and punches, he was forced back. Adrenaline pushing the young woman onward, she pursued him relentlessly. A normal man would have been beaten into a bloody pulp by now. Not so with Loz. Riled up by his expression of glee, Tifa flew into a frenzy. She’d show the bastard…but nothing she did would wipe that infuriating smirk off of his face.

Pushed beyond her limits, Tifa mobilized her last reserves of strength and closed in for the kill. A powerful kick to the stomach made Loz double over, wheezing in surprise. The blow to the back of his head finally felled him. Her victory was short-lived, however. Stunned, Tifa watched Loz dazedly trying to get to his feet. Seizing the last chance she might get in this unfair fight, Tifa delivered a roundhouse kick to her opponent’s head. The force behind it sent him reeling. 

Worn out, Tifa cautiously observed Loz prone form, fervently wishing this ordeal to be over. Despair took a hold of her upon seeing him move. She had given everything she’s got and refused to believe that it had been for naught. Rooted to the spot, Tifa was torn between the urge to scream in frustration, or to tuck tail and run. Then Loz stood and slowly turned to face her, eyes burning with a dark light. Unnerved, Tifa found it impossible to tear her eyes away from his face – a face whose expression resembled that of a predator fixed on its prey.

“Good,” he praised her, “very good.” His smirk was one of utter satisfaction. 

Resigned, Tifa settled into a fighting stance yet again. She pushed down the fear that was tugging at her heart – not useful. 

Cracking his knuckles, Loz regarded her for a moment. “My turn,” he stated nonchalantly. 

What followed was literally a blur. ‘ _He’s cheating again.’_ But there was no time for Tifa to be outraged at his use of that damned haste materia. For, as soon as the thought flashed through her mind, Loz was bearing down on her. Contrary to what she expected, however, he settled for evading instead of attacking. Warily, Tifa tried her hardest not to lose track of the blurry figure that circled her. He appeared and disappeared in the blink of an eye, tempting his opponent to strike at him. Which she did…only to miss again and again. Tifa’s nerves were on edge. He was clearly toying with her. Then, Loz materialized right in front of her and Tifa snarled angrily. Lashing out, she found him gone again. She didn’t notice him standing behind her until it was too late.

Before the young fighter could react, something hit the back of her knees with enormous force, knocking her off her feet. Her head struck stone and Tifa cried out. With blinding pain radiating from the back of her head, she struggled to make her battered body move. Blinking back tears, her vision finally cleared enough to see Loz looming above her, grinning triumphantly. 

Then he lifted his leg… 

…Her muscles tensed up…

took careful aim… 

…instinctively commanding her body to _move_ …

and brought his foot down… 

…and move it did… 

…slowly…much too slowly… 

The moment Loz stomped on her leg and smashed her right kneecap, all Tifa knew was excruciating pain…pain… _PAIN_ … Screaming her mind to the heavens, her body shuddered and jerked. When he ground the remains of her knee under his heel, every single nerve exploded with fire. Her hands futilely clawed at the stone floor – they clawed at the foot that was squashing bones, muscles and flesh! Her left leg thrashed around uselessly. Nausea threatened to overwhelm the martial artist and red dots began to dance before her eyes. Her lungs seemed incapable of providing the quivering mass that was her body with its much-needed oxygen. Had Tifa been able of coherent thought, she might have marvelled at the fact that she managed to remain conscious throughout this torment. As it was, the strangeness of it was lost on her. 

After what felt like an eternity, Loz stepped back. Lazily, he observed the gasping and whimpering female lying at his feet with a pleased smile on his face. Tifa’s face, on the other hand, was twisted in agony as her maimed limb sent shockwave after shockwave of pulsating pain through her body. Breathing heavily, she willed herself to suppress the rising panic, thinking of the healing materia she was equipped with. Tifa activated her mastered Curaga and waited for the soothing green glow to do its work…but nothing happened. Shocked, she tried again…and again…and again…

_‘We play by my rules here, you know?’_

Letting out a guttural cry, Tifa squeezed her eyes shut as she realized the enormity of Sephiroth’s so called ‘rules’. While her own materia seemed to be rendered inoperative, Loz was able to make use of his materia as he pleased. 

The injustice of it all weighed down on the young woman, sparking her anger. It didn’t dull the pain, but it sufficed to revive her fighting spirit. Tifa opened her eyes and blinked, waiting for Loz’s face to stop swimming in and out of focus. Then she glared. _Need help getting up?_ the amused gleam in his eyes seemed to say. He offered her his hand and waggled his fingers invitingly. It only added insult to injury.  

Inwardly seething, Tifa schooled her features into a blank look. Wordlessly, she lifted her still-throbbing left arm and seized the proffered hand. Loz seemed taken aback by this but recovered quickly. Grinning happily, he pulled her up. 

Tifa thought she might die then and there, for the pain was unbearable…all consuming…and yet she endured. Clenching her teeth, she pointedly avoided looking at her leg. She merely cringed at the sickening squelching sound the limb made as it was lifted out of the puddle of gore in which it had been lying. 

With her gaze fixed on her target and her left leg supporting her weight as much as possible, Tifa let momentum propel her forward. Summoning the last of her strength, she lunged out.

Loz’s grin turned to a frown and ended in a grunt of pain. 

The satisfying sound of fist-breaking-nose made Tifa smile grimly as she watched Loz’s head snap back. Her smile vanished abruptly, however, when his right hand reflexively shot out and caught her wrist in a vice-like grip. Immediately, Tifa tried to break his hold and free her immobilized arms. But she failed and could only watch helplessly when his head slowly tilted forwards again. 

Terror seized her heart when she saw his face. 

With blood freely gushing out of his nose, Loz regarded her stonily. Gone were the grins and smirks, the infuriating smugness, the mocking expression. Tifa was looking at a face void of emotions and it scared her. When his left hand released hers, she watched his every move as if in a trance.

She watched him raise his left hand, making a fist. ‘ _I wonder what he plans to do?’_

She watched his right hand, still holding her other arm in a tight grip and twisting it cruelly. ‘ _That hurts.’_

She watched his raised fist coming down in a flash, hitting her arm with bone crushing force. ‘ _Aaghhhhhhhhh………………………………………..’_

A blood-curdling scream pierced the silence. Befuddled, it took Tifa’s mind a long moment to realize who was making that infernal noise. When it did, the spell was broken at last. This time there was no avoiding the sight of her mauled limb. Starting to shake violently, Tifa was transfixed by the broken bones protruding from her arm.

 _‘He’s…crippling me…crippling…’_    

Darkness crept along the edges of her vision, conscious thought slowly slipped away. Her body went limp, pitching forward. Only dimly aware of her surroundings, Tifa felt Loz grabbing hold of her throat, stopping her fall. Lifting her broken body with ease, he held her at eye level and patiently waited for a reaction. Although delirious with pain, Tifa managed to lift her eyes, glaring daggers at him.

Pleased, Loz looked her over appraisingly. Seemingly satisfied with what he saw, he nodded once. There was a broad grin on his face when he made eye contact again. Then he pivoted on the spot, sending Tifa flying through the swirling tendrils of the Lifestream… 

…right into the inferno that was Nibelheim.


	3. Mind

The impact on the charred, hot ground knocked the wind out of her. Gasping for breath, Tifa’s body convulsed. Blazing heat made her eyes water and she brought her hands up in order to shield them from the scorching wind that brushed her face. Thick smoke and the stench of burning flesh reached her nostrils, making her start to cough and gag violently. 

Memories surfaced. Old wounds reopened brutally. Past and present blurred until they became indistinguishable. ‘ _Not real! Not real!’_ the rational part of her mind screamed. It got through to her just barely, but it did.

Pulling herself together, Tifa wearily got back on her feet. Bracing herself, she glanced around. Nibelheim’s inn, or rather what remained of it, loomed in front of her. On her right, the water tower had turned into a giant torch, its flames seemingly reaching to th- _she got back on her feet???_

It couldn’t be! Her eyes were deceiving her, they had to be! Swallowing the sudden lump in her throat, Tifa closed her eyes and concentrated on what she was feeling rather than relying on her mind declaring this to be impossible. There was no denying it: she felt whole again. Opening her eyes, she gazed in wonder at her miraculously healed body. There was not a single scratch on her skin _–_ no bruise, nothing at all. It seemed as if her bloody encounter with Loz had never happened. 

Despite the current circumstances, Tifa smiled. It was a tentative, shaky smile but a smile nonetheless. Feeling somehow vitalized, she crossed the village square in a few quick strides. What she caught sight of next, however, brought her up short. Her smile slipped from her face along with the colour. Tall, imposing, terrifyingly beautiful, Sephiroth stood amidst the sea of flames he himself had unleashed. As if sensing her approach, he raised his head, his eyes burning with a feral light. 

Tifa’s heart came to a shuddering stop before starting to throb like mad. It wasn’t entirely due to The Nightmare blocking her path, however. This Sephiroth wasn’t real…yet the double bladed sword at her throat was.

Standing stock-still, Tifa caught a glimpse of chin-length silver hair and a demonic grin out of the corner of her eyes. She broke out in a cold sweat as memories of the fight between Cloud and this particular remnant flooded her mind. She had seen what he was capable of. Coupled with what little Cloud had told her about his encounters with the volatile youth, Tifa knew she was in trouble. She felt the sword withdraw, far enough for her to move her head without cutting her throat open. Swallowing hard, she turned and looked him in the eyes.

Kadaj. 

His expression made her fervently wish for another round with Loz. Shiva, she would take _anybody_ , really – anybody but this innocent looking, cunning, sadistic manifestation of Sephiroth! Right now, he was looking at her like a gleeful child about to rip a helpless little insect’s legs out. One.by.one. 

Choosing this most inopportune moment to remind Tifa of its continued existence, the nerve-wracking booming noise that had troubled her in the Planet’s Core resounded again. Startled, she moved jerkily, causing Kadaj to press his razor-sharp blades against her jugular in warning. Tifa cursed under her breath when the metal broke skin. Momentarily distracted by the tiny trickle of blood running down her neck, the young woman only belatedly registered that it wasn’t her friends’ voices she was hearing anymore…but the sounds of fighting. Mixed with the crackling of fire and the creak of wooden structures bursting and collapsing, the resulting cacophony made Tifa’s blood run cold. 

Kadaj, on the other hand, seemed to enjoy it immensely. His eyes closed and he tilted his head back, a serene expression on his face. Taking slow, deep breaths, it appeared he savoured the clash of metal on metal, the firing of gunshots, the moans of pain. 

Tifa shivered, even more so when his eyes suddenly snapped open. Then Kadaj concentrated his attention on her alone and the martial artist knew that his sinister smile didn’t bode well for her. “So glad you could drop by. Are you having fun yet?” 

Her eyes narrowed in anger but Tifa had the presence of mind not to rise to the bait. Reminding herself that she had no personal experience with Kadaj, she refrained from making any comments. For the time being, Tifa would tread carefully. Misjudging this situation might prove fatal after all. 

Kadaj, not liking his fun to be ruined, pouted like a small child. “Tifa,” he spoke in a singsong voice, “I asked you a question.” But there was nothing child-like in his eyes and his expression. Only the promise of pain.

Exhaling slowly, Tifa forced herself to remain calm and controlled and answered him in a tone as neutral as possible, “I’m just debating whether to give you a truthful answer or one that won’t get me killed.” 

Kadaj snickered and removed his sword, holding it loosely in his hand as he circled her leisurely. Unnerved, Tifa stood her ground, spinning on the spot to keep him in her line of sight. Once he had walked round her, Kadaj turned his back on her and sheathed Souba. Somewhat relieved – but still alert to a change of mood at any time – Tifa watched him raise his arms skywards. He sighed with pleasure before turning back to face her, arms still raised. The look of rapture on his face made Tifa sick to her stomach.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he exclaimed happily, gesturing at their surroundings. “So beautiful.”

_‘Ok, enough of this ‘treading carefully’.’_

“Beautiful?” Tifa hissed between clenched teeth. “Innocent people died that day! My father died that day!” Shaking with rage, her voice dropped to a furious whisper. “And life as I knew it died with him.” Identical cruel smirks graced the features of Sephiroth and his remnant and Tifa spat, “But you know all about that, you little bastard.”

In a flash Kadaj’s sword was in his hand, singing through the air. Enraged as she was, Tifa didn’t even feel the pain when it sliced open her cheek. Unblinking, her hand came up to gingerly touch the twin cuts. She inspected her blood-smeared digits for a moment, feeling the hot red liquid dripping from her jaw line. It was the final straw.

Emitting a battle cry, Tifa lunged at the scowling brat. She didn’t care about the odds of a martial artist defeating a swordsman as skilled as Kadaj. All she wanted was to pummel him to the ground. Yet, no matter what she did or how fast she was, he was faster _–_ anticipating her every move and dodging them all. Never once raising his sword against his foe, Kadaj contented himself with letting her burn herself out. He was clearly amused by her futile attempts to strike him if his grin was anything to go by. In the end, Tifa gave in. With her strength depleted, all she could do was brace herself for his retaliation. But the attack never came. Instead, he scrutinized her in a way that made Tifa’s flesh crawl. And then he smiled… 

Oddly enough Kadaj seemed to be thrilled as he surveyed both Sephiroth and Tifa. Looking the irate woman straight in the eye, he purred, “So much rage. So much hatred. So…alike.” 

After the initial shock wore off Tifa snorted indignantly. “I’m nothing like Sephiroth,” she retorted sharply, struggling not to yell. This was preposterous! And yet…there was something deep down inside of her that listened attentively. A tiny little part of her that Tifa instinctively shied away from. Suddenly, it no longer seemed an option to simply dismiss Kadaj’s words, and that frightened her to the core. 

Chuckling sardonically, Kadaj watched Tifa closely. The evil grin on his lips told her he’d noticed her growing distress. “Scared by mere words again?” His eyes gleamed with amusement as Tifa’s head shot up, her eyes flashing angrily. His voice took on a condescending tone as he taunted her, “I guess it’s understandable seeing as they are true.”

_“Ha, ha, ha…Tifa…”_

Trying with all her might to repress a memory of similar wording

_“Why are you so worried and scared by those words?”_

Tifa failed miserably.

_“Hm…shall I show everyone here what’s in your heart?”_  

This was madness. What was she to do?! 

Impotent fury made her clench her fists, knuckles turning white. ‘ _Fight this! Fight him!’_ And so she did.

This time Kadaj didn’t hold back. Cut upon cut he dealt to her arms, her legs, her torso. He marred her flesh with precision but never did he cut deep, never did he injure her severely. It seemed as if he were merely…toying.

“The mind’s such a curious thing,” Kadaj mused aloud, ducking a vicious right hook, and sliced open Tifa’s momentarily unprotected right side. “Memories – they’re nothing more than remnants of a time long past yet they are so powerful.” Pausing for effect, he locked gazes with the battered female. “They can lift you up,” his gaze became penetrating, “or torment you.”

Suspicious of this sudden change of topic, Tifa glanced around, absentmindedly pressing a hand to the long cut on her ribs. Taking in the heart-wrenching sight of her burning hometown, she had to agree silently.

_‘This is torment, indeed.’_

Focussing on Kadaj again, she found the teen grinning at her knowingly. He was slowly but surely wearing her out and Tifa wondered (not for the first time) what his ultimate goal might be. Whatever he wanted with her, Tifa had the distinct feeling that she wouldn’t like it. 

As if to confirm her assumption, he spoke again – his voice so soft and gentle, his words so disturbing and menacing, “Ah yes, quite torturous to remember all the terrible things that were done to us. But what about the things we did to others? All the horrible, condemning, morally questionable actions done in the name of what we believe to be right?” Kadaj’s feigned expression of heartfelt sympathy morphed into one of malicious joy. “I dare say it can be even more torturous to remember _those_. But you know all about that, Tifa.” He was using her own words against her. And, from that look of perverse satisfaction on his face, he hadn’t missed her starting to tremble upon hearing them. 

Transfixed to the spot, Tifa swallowed convulsively. ‘ _He isn’t…surely he isn’t implying that…’_ Inwardly cursing herself for letting his words get to her, she desperately tried to hide her insecurity. If he knew of the cracks in her mental defence…

“What’s it to you?” She wouldn’t let this go unchallenged. “The atrocities you committed…Do they haunt you at night? Do you see them in your sleep? The faces of all the people you murdered? Or are there just too many to remember them all?” Her tone was meant to be accusing, but the tremor in her voice dampened the effect considerably. Still, it seemed to give Kadaj pause. A scowl darkened his face, his piercing gaze growing in intensity with every second that passed. Silence dragged on. A drop of sweat made its way down Tifa’s spine. Her nerves were stretched to breaking point. Kadaj remained motionless. 

Then he burst out laughing.

And he continued to laugh when a powerful kick to his jaw sent him crashing into the remains of what used to be the water tower. Burning debris flew in all directions, the wooden structure creaked and swayed dangerously before collapsing with a deafening noise. Breathing hard, Tifa watched Kadaj pick himself up from the rubble, nonchalantly brushing ash and dust off of his leather armour. The look he gave her bordered on reprimanding. “I remember a great many things, Tifa,” he informed her testily and just like that he was all smug grins again. “I remember you.” 

Up until this point, Tifa hadn’t thought it possible for her to tense up even more. She was wrong. Only now did it dawn on the young fighter: the horrors that were in store for her would exceed even her worst fears. What she had experienced thus far had merely scratched the surface. There was so much more to come. Possibly more than she could handle.

“Yes, I remember you, Tifa,” Kadaj continued in a wistful voice. “You were always there, at the turning points of my life.” Ice crawled down her spine as he took a step towards her, then another. Never before had she backed away from a foe. But she did so now, her eyes riveted on the lunatic closing in on her. 

Chuckling softly, Kadaj twirled his sword, making cutting motions every now and then. “Ah, Nibelheim, Nibelheim…Yes, Tifa, this Nibelheim is an illusion but it’s also a memory. _Our_ memory.” Touching his temple in a dramatic gesture he whispered, “Such interesting memories we share, Tifa. Just think of the Planet’s Core.” 

Tifa’s breathing hitched. This was something she definitely didn’t want to think of right now. As if reading her thoughts, Kadaj’s lips curled into a wicked smile. Pursuing his prey with measured steps, he carefully manoeuvred Tifa to where he wanted her. Then he waited.

Something sparked deep inside Kadaj’s burning emerald eyes when her legs suddenly refused to take even one more step back. Panic began to seep into Tifa’s veins. Instinct had taken over, having detected the danger at her back long before it registered in her mind. A danger that was well-nigh impossible! For her enemy was standing right _in front_ of her, watching her intently, silently. Time and again, Kadaj had proven how dangerous he could be. Far too dangerous for Tifa to let anything distract her attention away from him. Yet, this ominous feeling was too strong to ignore. She had no choice but to turn away and look over her shoulder… 

Tifa gasped involuntarily – had He been real, she would have felt His breath on her face! Standing close behind her, He was smirking at the carnage around them. Irrational fear clawed at her heart. Sephiroth was an illusion, unable to hurt her in any way. Unlike Kadaj, who was now at her unprotected back…She could simply go around him, even through him if need be. He was an illusion! Nothing more than thin air and yet…and yet…Tifa couldn’t move. She couldn’t move! 

“Don’t you see, Tifa? Don’t you see that our fates are linked?”

Spinning around, Tifa came face to face with a strangely pensive-looking Kadaj. He must have crept up on her, stealthily invading her personal space. Too close…he was standing much too close…Trapped between the two men, Tifa felt her throat constrict. She desperately fought for air when Kadaj stepped even closer – closer than he had ever been to her before. As if drawn by the intoxicating fear in her eyes, he visibly struggled not to pounce on her. In the same moment, Tifa felt rather than saw a movement behind her. Risking a glance back, she saw Sephiroth turning around, calmly walking through the raging flames, and disappearing from view.

_'Guess He’s on His way to His beloved mother’_ Tifa surmised with a certain air of detachment. Brought to the edge of breaking down, Sephiroth’s retreat had lulled her into a sense of momentary reprieve from this constant emotional onslaught. It wasn’t meant to last. Gently pressing against her cheek, Souba turned her face back towards its owner. All-too-familiar terror flooded Tifa as the blade lightly skimmed over the cuts it inflicted earlier.

“It was beyond words, Tifa. This moment of liberation…the feelings it evoked…” Staring into the distance, Kadaj’s voice was hushed. It was as if he was reliving the slaughter, the bloodshed…and relishing it. “Tell me, Tifa, can you imagine what I felt?” 

Tifa’s heart skipped a beat. All of a sudden she realized that something was seriously wrong. Why hadn’t she noticed before? All those remarks, the mentioning of memories that weren’t Kadaj’s but _Sephiroth’s…_ The remnant was standing in front of her – acting like the unpredictable little menace that he always was – but it wasn’t him speaking. Maybe it had never been Kadaj speaking in the first place… 

Tifa’s head started spinning. Her heart pounded hard against her rips as a tall, shadowy figure with long flowing hair emerged out of nowhere to loom behind Kadaj. Its glowing green eyes came to rest on her, their slit pupils narrowed, staring the shocked female down, piercing into her soul… Tifa blinked and the shadow was no more. Teetering on the edge of hysteria, she kept her eyes glued to the boy in front of her, not quite knowing what she expected to happen next. Kadaj, however, appeared to be oblivious of her mind’s turmoil, a faraway look still present in his eyes. 

Tifa’s thoughts raced. Who…what…exactly was she dealing with here? Kadaj, serving as Sephiroth’s mouthpiece? Sephiroth himself? How could any of this be? Had He been there all this time? His consciousness lurking at the back of His remnants’ minds, watching events unfold? Some kind of coexistence, perhaps? Was that even possible? Considering this world of never-ending horror she’d been thrust into, it probably was. Tifa shivered involuntarily. That thought wasn’t just disturbing, but downright scary.

_“Tell me, Tifa, can you imagine what I felt?”_ This was sick!

Squeezing her eyes shut, Tifa tried to block out that demand she read in Kadaj’s dreamy gaze. A demand that echoed in her head.

‘A _nswer me…Answer me…Answer me…’_

Resistance was futile. “Yeah,” she heard herself saying, “I can imagine what you felt. It’s called insanity.” But no sooner had the words left her lips than an overwhelming feeling of suffocation took hold of Tifa and her voice gave out. This was it. Any moment now, she expected to be run-through. So her eyes shot open in disbelief when Kadaj merely snorted with amusement instead. He shook his head at her, smiling leniently. “ _Insanity?_ It was freedom, Tifa. I finally shook off my shackles and my true potential awakened. Morals lost their meaning. I felt unstoppable. My power was absolute and nothing mattered any longer. Nothing…except revenge.”   

Tifa shuddered with horror, repulsed by the reverence in his tone, the awe with which he spoke. Kadaj noticed and smirked slyly. “You will understand soon enough, Tifa. Before this is over, you will understand _everything_.” 

There was no doubt in his voice that his prediction, his plan for her, would come to pass. Appalled, Tifa spun around and ran, following the path Sephiroth had taken earlier. She didn’t care what might await her in the darkness beyond the raging fire.

_‘I can’t…stand this a second longer…get away…I need to get away!’_

But she didn’t get far. No sooner had Tifa taken a couple of steps than the flames suddenly spread. Blocking the path, they flared up high into the sky, driving her back. Tears pooled in her eyes, born of desperation rather than the intense heat emanating from the wall of fire. In this moment, Tifa wanted nothing more than to slump to the ground, close her eyes, and wait for the end. She was so tired and weary…but her indomitable will prevailed. The moment of weakness passed, and Tifa’s fighting spirit came to life again. She wouldn’t cower. Not now. Not ever. 

Her new-found resolve was tested when she turned and looked around, though. The fire had closed a circle around Kadaj and herself, trapping them in the most confined of spaces. Alarmed, Tifa watched Kadaj walk around the still blazing heap of rubble that had once been the water tower. Then he calmly strolled up and down the perimeter of this fiery enclosure, never once looking at her. Keeping her distance, Tifa started at the sudden sound of chuckling. It grew louder and louder until Kadaj threw back his head, screaming with laughter. “There’s no escape, Tifa,” he exclaimed with difficulty before dissolving into another laughing fit. “You won’t leave until _I_ choose to let you go.” 

Then, as abruptly as it had started, Kadaj’s laughter died down. In the blink of an eye, all traces of mirth were gone and he became dead serious. Finally, fixing his gaze on her, he unsheathed Souba. The hard glint in his eyes was unmistakable – he was done toying. “So,” his voice was deceptively gentle, “we are not alike? We have nothing in common? Nothing at all?” 

Tifa cringed, the insinuation cutting deep. Something she was too afraid to name stirred within her once more. The part of her that _knew_ what Kadaj was getting at. The part that knew and acknowledged it as truth. Her guilty conscience…it wouldn’t be suppressed any longer. Words of denial died on her lips though Tifa shook her head furiously, more out of reflex rather than conviction.

“Oh Tifa, who are you trying to fool?” Kadaj’s voice was dripping with scorn. Striding up to the stubborn female, he gloated at the sight of Tifa’s dilated pupils, her quickened breathing.He practically skipped the last steps between them _–_ the trepidation that clung to her like a second skin seemingly calling to him in a most delicious way. Kadaj exhaled slowly, hot breath ghosting over Tifa’s cheek. “Don’t you dare deny it,” he snarled into her ear, “for I know that you _remember_!” he ended on a vicious hiss. For a long moment, neither of them moved. The moment passed. 

_…and a deadly blade…_

_…found its mark…_

_…piercing flesh and organs in a spray of blood…_

Tifa screamed out.

Panic-stricken, she staggered back. Her hands frantically clutched at her middle, pressing down on the wound in order to stem the flow of blood that should be gushing out of it, running over her fingers…Except that there was no wound. No blood. Not on her body nor on Kadaj’s sword. 

Tifa gasped. Her thoughts went into meltdown. ‘ _NonononoNO…That’s…Impossible!’_ The unmistakable sound of steel cutting flesh hadn’t been a delusion. ‘ _Where is it…whereisitwhereisitwherewherewherewhere…???’_

Tears welled in her eyes as she clawed at her skin, desperately searching for something that wasn’t there. It was only when Tifa’s crazed gaze locked with Kadaj’s calm one that she was jolted out of her frenzy. Sensation and sound came rushing back to her. And Tifa understood. 

…the screams…the fighting…that _damned_ _noise_ … 

Circumstances had made her block it out just like she had done in the Planet’s Core. Now, of all times, it had pushed itself to the forefront of her mind again, leaving Tifa no choice but to listen to what sounded to be a massacre.

_‘That blade didn’t stab me but somebody else.’_

Relief flooded her entire being, quickly accompanied by an overwhelming sense of dismay. Something horrible had occurred, that Tifa felt sure of. But she had no time to process any of this. Emerald eyes suddenly blazed with seething anger. A split-second movement -

\- and Tifa’s reflexes kicked in. She dropped to her knees, upper body bending backwards as Souba sliced the air in a horizontal arch only millimetres above her head. Kadaj growled, switched to a downwards motion and Tifa threw herself to the side, quickly rolling out of the sword’s range. Coming to rest on her hands and knees, her gaze involuntarily fell on the spot she had been kneeling in a moment before. Fear-induced adrenaline rushed through her veins in a tidal wave as she beheld a deep gash in the ground. Kadaj had used enough force to drive his sword up to its hilt into the hard earth. He would have cut her in half. Easily. Bile rose in Tifa’s throat, the thought bringing with it a sudden feeling of dizziness. When she finally managed to tear her eyes away and look up, she saw Kadaj straightening himself. He towered over her, all taut muscles and unrestrained violence. Tifa’s heart thudded against her rips with excruciating force. She was acutely aware of her shaky legs as she scrambled to her feet, having the feeling that this was the end. Her final stand. 

Kadaj watched the pathetic display before him, an unpleasant sneer curling his lips. “Tifa Lockheart,” he bit out harshly, “Tifa Lockheart, the terrorist. Look me in the eyes and tell me how many deaths you have on your conscience.” 

Tifa flinched as if whipped, her worst fears coming true. Haunted by guilt, there was nothing she could do, nothing she could say, to deny the truth in his words. “Hit a nerve, Tifa?” he asked in fake astonishment before twisting the knife even deeper. “Did you persuade yourself that your deeds were for the greater good? A necessary means to an end? Do you believe the orphaned children of those you killed share that sentiment?” 

Tifa choked back a sob; Kadaj’s hurtful words were tearing her apart. Tears spilled over her cheeks in an endless flow. ‘ _I didn’t want this to happen. I’m so sorry.’_ Unmoved, Kadaj spat venomously, “You claim to be different from me. I say you’re not. Can you prove me wrong? Can you?” 

He leaped at her, murderous intent gleaming in his eyes. Tifa lurched backwards, terror written on her face. “You’re a self-righteous woman, Tifa. You’re a self-righteous _killer_. You’re no better than me,” Kadaj shouted at the top of his lungs. 

The fire roared as if fuelled by his burning, horrific rage.

Control slipped.

A stab. Evaded. Barely.

 “You’re just like me!”

Features contorted in hatred,

flames bathed them in a demonic light.

“For it was here, Tifa Lockheart,

where you succumbed to it.”

Relentless pursuit, gaze fixed on fearful eyes,

a tear-streaked face.

 “Your thirst for revenge.”

 Legs that felt ready to buckle any moment now.

 “Your thirst for blood.”

Too close to the fire. Its flames hissing and licking,

searing skin, clothes, hair.

 “You dared attack me.”

No way out. _No_ way out!

 “You wanted to strike me down.”

A maniacal glint in narrowed eyes.

 “In _cold blood_!”

Control snapped.

Kadaj screeched like a mindless beast. Scared beyond words, Tifa leaped into action. With courage born of despair, she lunged at him, ignoring the tiny voice in her head that screamed _suicide._ Grabbing hold of his sword arm, she clung to it for all she was worth. Kadaj froze. The muscles in his arm flexed under the touch of Tifa’s hands. In disbelief and childlike wonder, he watched as she cautiously trailed them down his arm and came to rest atop his hand. The hilt of his sword creaked under the pressure his fingers were exerting, but Tifa held on. Stubbornly. _Pleadingly_. Both of them knew that Kadaj could break her trembling grip on his hand anytime he wanted to. Yet he didn’t. Seconds stretched endlessly while he merely looked at the woman who had the audacity to lay a finger on him.

And Tifa foolishly _hoped.._.

All of a sudden Kadaj yanked his sword arm back and, stepping aside, placed his right hand between Tifa’s shoulder blades. A hard shove and she stumbled past him. 

He struck.

Being driven deep into its unsuspecting victim’s back, Souba hummed with joy. Its twin blades bathed in blood as they cut along the spine, severing tendons, muscles and nerves. 

An anguished cry tore from Tifa’s lips. 

_…a pitiful gurgling sound…_

_…blood pooling in failing lungs…_

Her limbs twitched violently before falling completely still. Cold, terrifying numbness spread throughout her body. The burning pain along her back faded away. Her arms fell limp at her sides. Her legs gave way. Movement was beyond her control. She was paralysed. Helpless. 

Hazy images swam before her mind’s eye… _a metal staircase…an ominous looking door…a man standing in front of it, his back turned to her…Masamune in her hands poised to strike…_ and dread pooled in her stomach as Tifa realized he had paid her back for that in kind. 

Time itself seemed to stop and hold its breath as the battered figure of Tifa Lockheart collapsed in a heap, lost in the suffocating embrace of full-blown panic. A tiny whimper rose from her throat when she felt leather-clad arms snake around her waist, pulling her back to rest against a lean chest. Revulsion twisted her gut as Kadaj leaned over her shoulder, tenderly pressing his cheek to hers. He took hold of her right hand and, gently cradling it, brought it to his face.

“So much innocent blood,” he murmured, taking his time to delicately sniff at every inch of her gloved hand. His pensive mood changed into childish joy, and he rejoiced as if he had made a delightful discovery. “I can smell it. Taaaaaaaste it,” and he licked her palm with one slow stroke of his tongue. Tifa felt like throwing up. “This hand is dripping red.” She wanted to yell at him, press her hands over her ears and block out his hated voice. But all sound was stuck in her throat, her body unresponsive. She felt him shift, would have tensed if she had been able to. Kadaj’s lips at her ear. Oppressive silence. Tifa squeezed her eyes shut, a tear sliding down her cheek. He breathed a single word. _“Murderer.”_

Something inside of her broke, never to be whole again. 

_…a gruesome death rattle…_  

He let go of her and Tifa’s body pitched forward. She thudded onto the ground, her head turned sideways. Kadaj walked around the prone woman, coming to stand in her line of sight. The blood-soaked points of Souba’s twin blades dangled in front of her eyes. Dripping. A flick of his wrist and red droplets splattered her face. A derisive laugh, a satisfied glance at the rivulets of blood running down Tifa’s back, and Kadaj turned away. He disappeared among the flames, leaving a crimson trail behind. 

All Tifa Lockheart could do was to stare after him. And _scream_. 

A piercing scream that clawed its way out of her throat and split the air. 

The fire crept closer. 

Then, out of nowhere, an icy gust of wind swept over her, smothering the flames. 

And still she screamed until darkness descended like a shroud.


	4. Soul

Tifa found herself in a pitch-black void; darkness seeping into her like cold fingers, felt for the flickering light in her heart that refused to die. The temptation to surrender was overpowering. It would have been so easy to give in…

_‘…no…’_

_‘…never…’_

The sound that wrenched from her throat was equal parts displeasure and exasperation as this unfaltering heart of hers battled the bone-deep exhaustion of her body with fierce determination. A fraction of strength returned – not enough to cast out the lingering traces of darkness, but enough to rise on unsteady feet.

Her wounds were healed, her body fit for action.

It wasn’t over yet.

Tifa exhaled shakily. “Haven’t you done enough already?” she asked in a strained voice. Kadaj’s words were still ringing in her ears, haunting her mind. Physically healed she may have been, but her mental scars remained raw and bleeding. It took every ounce of resolve she still possessed not to collapse right then and there.

This ‘game’ had long gone beyond her limits, leaving her defeated in every possible way. So…

“What more could you possibly want, Sephiroth?”

Deafening silence greeted Tifa’s words, only broken by her startled gasp as she realized that the ever-present infernal noise had been silenced at last.

She should have felt relieved. She did not.

She should have been grateful. She was not.

Her heart should have jumped for joy. It did not.

It could not for an iron fist was clamped around it, squeezing mercilessly. 

Tifa struggled for breath, the horror she felt beyond her understanding. What had happened that caused her subconscious to cry out in pain and grief? And why did she feel like suffocating under a heavy weight that had suddenly settled in her chest?

Her senses reeled and it was in this moment of uncomprehending shock that Tifa finally took notice of her surroundings…or lack thereof. Thought fled her mind at the sight of what she was standing on. A faint gleam of diffused grey light beneath its surface illuminated a seemingly boundless sea of black waters. Shining more brightly wherever her feet touched, the ominous light encircled her in a bizarre kind of spotlight. Anything outside of its boundaries was hidden behind a veil of impenetrable darkness.

Tifa gaped disbelievingly, trying – and failing – to make sense of what she was seeing. Her reflection stared up at her, out of the fathomless depth of a sea she could walk on as if it were solid ground.

And then, for a split second, another face seemed to hover over her shoulder; green catlike eyes intent on her reflection in the water. Tifa’s head shot up and she whirled around to see…nobody. Yet she felt His malevolent presence like a tangible thing. Goosebumps erupted all over her skin, her gaze trying to pierce the darkness to no avail. 

Anything could be lurking in there…

Her eyes rendered useless, Tifa strained her ears and stiffened when out of nowhere the most blood-chilling sound she had ever heard reached her ears.

The darkness breathed.

It whispered to her.

And purred her name.

Rigid with fear, Tifa felt invisible hands caress her tenderly, their feather light touches making her tremble uncontrollably. She made a strangled noise in the back of her throat and flailed around, wanting nothing more than to shake those hands and their revolting touch off of her. There was a rustling sound and Tifa stilled and watched, mesmerized, as a single black feather floated down from the ‘sky’ and landed at her feet. Ripples formed on the water’s surface.

When Tifa looked up, Yazoo was standing right beside her.

Focussed on the feather at their feet, he turned to her upon hearing her yelp of surprise. Tilting his head to the side, he eyed her expectantly. Tifa’s face hardened. His message was clear.

_“Ready for another round?”_

Holding his gaze, the martial artist felt her blood starting to boil as righteous anger bubbled to the surface. The arrogance to assume she had resigned herself to whatever role had been intended for her in this sick game…

_‘No more!’_

Wordlessly, Tifa turned her back on him and started to walk. On and on she walked, eventually breaking into a run. Her ragged breathing sounded unnaturally loud in her ears while the splash of her feet on the water’s surface seemed oddly distorted. It might have been a trick of the senses or the fact that this vast expanse was indeed boundless that created the impression of getting nowhere. Every step Tifa took felt more arduous than the one before it – as if the darkness itself was trying to force her back. It slowed her down considerably, yet she pushed on until the strain on her legs became too much.

Tifa stopped, panting for breath. The infinite space around here suddenly seemed stifling – even more so when she heard soft footfalls approaching her. Her first instinct was to start running again, but she suppressed it as soon as it rose. There was nowhere to run to. There was no escaping Him. Not in this place. She had known before taking that first step, still…could she be blamed for trying? For wanting to cling to the illusion of having some semblance of control left? For fiercely denying the notion of being reduced to a mere plaything? She had owed this to herself, hadn’t she?

_Fool_

Her fight or flight instinct triggered, Tifa drew herself up to her full height. Flight wasn’t an option anymore.

Yazoo came to stand close behind her, his body heat seeping into the skin of her back. Tifa’s spine tingled and she cursed her body’s natural instinct to lean towards his surprisingly comforting warmth. Given the circumstances, this was absolutely inexcusable! Whatever inappropriate feelings had been evoked, however, vanished abruptly with his next action.

A single finger slowly made its way along her right arm, lingering briefly where Loz’s fist had smashed it to pieces. “So much strength of body,” Yazoo murmured quietly. The finger moved on, running over her shoulder to her neck before finally stroking down her spine, tracing the gash Kadaj had carved into her skin. “So much strength of will,” a satisfied whisper in her ear. Nausea threatened to overwhelm Tifa when she felt his breath at her temple, his voice thick and husky as he delivered the final blow.

“Crushed at last.” 

There was only so much Tifa could take. Assailed by flashbacks of the remnants’ horrific deeds, the last vestiges of false bravado turned to dust. The gentle touch of Yazoo’s fingertip became unbearable and Tifa jerked away. Icy coldness spread throughout her body like an insidious disease and she hugged herself tightly in a vain attempt to ward off this all-consuming chill and calm her racing heart.

No sooner had she created a small distance between them than Yazoo covered it again and took hold of her shoulders. Tifa tensed but did nothing when he smoothed his hands down her arms, wrapping her in a strong yet cautious embrace. Holding Tifa securely with her back to his chest, Yazoo rested his head on her left shoulder. 

They remained that way for a long time, silent and unmoving. And Tifa hated every second of it. Inwardly, she chastised herself for letting him do as he pleased without so much as putting up a struggle. She knew this to be wrong yet here she was – in the arms of her enemy. And, on a more primitive, subconscious level, it mattered not to her who he was – for he simply was _there_. The comfort he provided, whatever the nefarious intention behind it, was a soothing balm to her tortured spirit.

Cooing sweet nothings into her ear, the demon with the face of an angel crawled his way under her skin, caressing her body, touching her soul. And while Tifa’s mind still rebelled, the pitiful remains of conscious resistance crumbled. The voice of reason went unheard and, for one insane moment, Tifa felt contented.

“I’m pleased with you, Tifa.”

This burst her bubble of contentment quite effectively, his words like a slap in the face. Annoyance sparked, directed not only at Yazoo for shattering the short lived illusion of peace and quiet, but mainly at herself for falling for this display of fake compassion. 

The deceitful remnant’s conduct had been nothing more than an elaborate ruse to play with her mind. And as soon as Tifa realized that, her thoughts started to race with amazing clarity **–** after all that she had gone through, her longing for comfort and compassion may have been understandable, but it was _not_ acceptable! Not when it came to Him!

Vexed, Tifa forcefully shock his hands off of her. She felt torn between the impulsive desire to act rashly, and an ingrained sense for danger which reminded her of proceeding with caution. Yazoo had preyed upon her emotions, playing her masterfully by wielding his allure like any other deadly weapon. He had taken their game to a whole new level, proving himself to be the most dangerous of the three. For neither his brothers’ brute strength nor psychological terror had managed to achieve what this devious fiend had _–_ suppressing Tifa’s will to fight – if only for a while.

Now that the enchantment was broken, Yazoo didn’t bother trying to touch her again but neither did he move away from her. His breath stirred the fine hair at the nape of her neck as he leaned in from behind. Tifa shuddered, the disturbing image came to mind of both a metaphorical angel and demon sitting on her shoulders, insistently vying for attention. Except that this allegory of the age-old struggle between salvation and damnation had one crucial flaw – there was no angel by her side. No guidance to have. No salvation to find. There was only Him. And He was whispering of dark and forbidden things, attempting to lure her onto the road to doom…

“The time has come,” Yazoo announced in a voice so soft that Tifa nearly missed it. “Take the final step, Tifa. And don’t ever look back.”

“What are you talking about?” Tifa asked in a near-whisper, her voice unconsciously matching his. 

Dread pooled in her stomach at the feel of Yazoo’s lips at her ear. “The darkest of flames shall ignite. A raging fire that floods your soul. Succumb, Tifa. Succumb and let it consume you.” His voice a seductive caress, Yazoo carefully planted the poisonous seed that would take root in her heart and fester. Stroking Tifa’s long hair, he pressed a chaste kiss on her neck, lingering over her erratically beating pulse point. “Abandon your defences and let me in.”

Tifa’s stomach lurched, widened eyes narrowing to mere slits. Shock and outrage warred within her, making it difficult to force the words out. “Y-You are…you are out of…your mind.”

“You.Are.Completely.Out.Of.Your.Mind!”

Quick as lightning, Tifa turned and slapped Yazoo’s hand away. But whatever she was about to hurl at him next never made it past her lips, the wolfish grin on his face bringing her up short.

“Am I? Or is it, perhaps, you?”

Tifa audibly gasped for air, feeling as if her lungs had suddenly ceased functioning. It took her several attempts to process his words – and when she did, it became painfully clear that speech had deserted her.

Yazoo chuckled, tapping his forehead. “Where do you think you are, Tifa? What do you believe this place to be?” he mocked, a chilling smile curving his lips when he saw realization dawn in her eyes.

_The mind’s such a curious thing…not real! not real!...What game are you playing?…nothing but an illusion…The mind’s such a curious thing...memories we share…What game are you playing?_

_…The mind’s such a curious thing…_

_…What game are you playing?…_

_…playingplayingplayingplayingplaying…_

_…mind…_

_…game…_

_…MIND…game…_

_The only one worth playing._

It was so glaringly obvious.

Tifa’s face turned ashen. “Are you saying that,” she trailed off, her voice shaking so badly. “Are you saying that this…that…that we’re…in…”

“The darkest recesses of the mind. Where the most secret of desires hide, and where longing turns to despair.”

Something flickered in Yazoo’s eyes, then. It was but a glimpse, gone again at a moment’s notice. But Tifa saw and she averted her face from the look of loneliness that seemed to be reaching out to her. This was inconceivable. Disturbing. It would be etched in her mind forever. She turned away abruptly, afraid of what else she might see in those emerald depths.

A distressed sound escaped Tifa’s parted lips as Yazoo’s arms encircled her waist like a vice. Suggestively pressing himself against her back, he was evoking bodily reactions she wouldn’t allow herself to act upon. Her nails bit into his wrists, whether to make him loosen his grip or to hold onto her, Tifa herself couldn’t say. Dizziness set in, her senses battered by a vortex of emotions. Among them all, it was uncertainty that gnawed at her the most, urging her to ask the question she didn’t want an answer to.

“Whose mind…whose mind is…this? Yours or…or…”

_‘…mine?’_

Yazoo’s triumphant laugh hurt worse than physical pain ever could. “You can’t tell?” He purred in satisfaction. “I admit it _is_ rather difficult to say given all that we share…”

Tifa went deathly still, paralyzing horror rearing its ugly head again. She stood motionless, unseeing eyes staring into space. Curious, if not a little suspicious, Yazoo turned the unresisting body in his arms. Upon beholding Tifa’s face, his eyes danced with glee. Her evident struggle to appear calm and unaffected was so amusing to watch. As was the fact that it was ultimately doomed to fail.

But then, unexpectedly, Tifa straightened. Head held high, her eyes burned with defiance and, with all the conviction she could muster, she declared “ _I_ am not insane.”

Stony-faced, Yazoo considered her with quiet intensity. “Ah.” He nodded solemnly, anticipation colouring his voice. “But I’m not done with you yet...”

No sooner had he ended, than Tifa reacted – not like a seasoned warrior, but rather a creature driven into a corner. Purely instinctive.

It happened too fast for Yazoo to stop her. She clawed at his face, her fingers ripping deep red lines into pale flesh. Blood welled up, running down his brow, his cheek, dripping into the eye that had almost been mangled. He managed to grab her wrists, pinning her arms to her sides. Then he held on tightly.

Tifa snarled and hissed. She was swamped with destructive emotions that needed an outlet.

“Good girl,” Yazoo exclaimed with a breathless laugh. “Give in to your anger, little fireball.”

Excitement shone in his eyes when Tifa started to thrash like mad. “Glorious,” he praised in absolute delight. His fingers dug into her skin, his grip hard and unyielding, and yet he could contain her only with great difficulty.

“That’s it, Tifa. Rage. Scream. Do it. Do it for me!”

She did so in a last burst of strength. Then it was over and Tifa collapsed in his arms. And he held her to him, enjoying the feel of her body. Pliant for once, soft and warm. Sapped, with her head tucked under Yazoo’s chin and his hands stroking her back in soothing circles, Tifa couldn’t find the will to break free. He had no right to touch her. To hold her. But it didn’t matter anymore now, did it?

“I feel it stirring inside you. There’s no use resisting. You know you can’t fight forever.” His velvety voice glided over her like the sinful caress of a lover’s hand. “Embrace it, Tifa. Embrace the darkness…and the hatred.” 

Trapped within the confines of his arms, the pull of his words, tremors coursed through Tifa’s body. Unbidden. Powerful. His smouldering gaze fed on her face. Her eyes, so expressive, so open, told him what her lips would not. Her body, if not her mind, was all but won.

“Wh- Why?” she croaked pitifully, her voice hoarse and her tongue feeling like lead in her mouth.

So much meaning – conveyed in a single word.  

_Why?_

Yazoo’s hands on her back stilled, fingers digging hard into her leather top. “In a world of lies and deceit – of pain and suffering and death – what else is there to trust and rely on but hatred?” His voice was low and toneless in her ear. “Your only companion,” he gave a short, bitter laugh, clinging to Tifa as if she were his lifeline in a stormy sea, “your…true friend.”

Tears gathered in Tifa’s eyes, her chest feeling far too constricted to draw even breaths. Hearing Yazoo talk about this horrible, destructive emotion He was harbouring as if it was the only logical consequence… There was always a choice, wasn’t there? There were other ways to cope…

_Even if your life turns into a nightmare?_  

Tifa almost retched at the thought. She couldn’t help but feel betrayed by her own mind. This was _Sephiroth_ talking. The man who had given in to his dark side and never turned back. He didn’t deserve her sympathy and he would never _ever_ have it…

A sudden movement; the touch of Yazoo’s forehead against her own. Tifa gasped, jolted out of her thoughts. She would have flinched, but his hand grabbed the back of her head, keeping her still. His face was a blank mask, the congealed blood in stark contrast to his pale skin, his eyes closed as if in deep contemplation. Instinct was clamouring for her to tear her gaze away, but nothing would divert her attention as it was fixed upon his visage.

Then his eyes shot open, pupils unnaturally wide, and Tifa found the reflection of a woman’s pale and haggard face staring back at her from within their inky black depth. Sobs tore out of her throat. The silent reproach on this face – _her_ face and yet it was not – was unbearable to look upon. Darkness began to swirl. There was a sudden _pull_ and eyes full of terror. It was the last Tifa saw of _her_ reflection. Sucked into the abyss, she was gone.

Gone.

Tifa fought so frantically for breath, her body would have convulsed if it hadn’t been for the accursed arms around her violently-shaking frame. Coolly observing the hyperventilating female, Yazoo leaned back a little, giving her time to calm down. His eyes had returned to their normal state, drinking in the sight of her still-heaving chest, but all Tifa saw was the yawning abyss that had finally provided her answer.

Her stomach churned as realization struck. This wasn’t about sympathy, about pity. It had never been about him but _her_. He was _preparing_ her, _teaching_ her. He wanted her to _know_.

The mask had been ripped away at last and what lay underneath was truly horrific.

So why, oh why, did it take such painstaking effort to draw back from the abyss and shake off its inscrutable allure?

Gloating over Tifa’s growing dismay, passion bled into Yazoo’s voice. “And when it’s all you have left,” one of his hands delicately trailed over her cheekbone, his thumb stroking her bottom lip, “pure, unadulterated hatred,” his eyes, heavy-lidded, lingered on her mouth, parted in shock, before slowly lifting to meet Tifa’s terrified gaze, “there’s nothing left to do but to crush your foes.” He smirked at her in the most deranged manner, savouring this moment with all his being. “Every single one of them.”

_‘N…n…o……..NO!’_

At first, it was nothing more than a spark in her eyes. It was tiny. It was weak.

And then it grew.

Kindled by an anger so raw, a hurt never felt so deeply before, the tiny spark turned into a raging wildfire; what had been a faint glimmer of waning strength and endurance began to burn bright and hot.

“No,” her eyes blazing, Tifa’s voice was steely. “This is wrong. _You_ are wrong.”

She squirmed and writhed, her ire rising higher and higher, matching the rage that slowly distorted Yazoo’s features, making him tremble in barely masked aggression. He crushed her against his frame, his muscles taut and quivering under the strain not to act fully upon his violent nature. One hand grabbed her chin in a bruising grip, his fingers biting into her jaw so hard, it made tears spring into Tifa’s eyes. So close he was to his goal, his prey ensnared in a web he would not let her escape from.

“You little fool,” he hissed contemptuously. This stubborn, defiant, vexing light of hers needed to be extinguished. And Yazoo would take great delight in doing so.

“What do you know of it? Unwilling to _see_ , blinded by ignorance, you spurn a power that has no equal.” He barked a laugh, full of scorn and disgust. “A power that cannot be stopp…”

“Liar!”

The shout rang loud in the sudden silence. Eyes glinting cold and hard like steel, Yazoo’s voice sounded murderous. “What did you just say?” And Tifa – worn out, tormented Tifa – straightened her spine, courting death with a grin on her face. “ _We did_ ,” she said. “We stopped you, defeated you, again and again and aga…” His hand clamped over her mouth, brutally cutting her off, and Tifa’s eyes shone with deeply-felt satisfaction. She had hit her mark – and hit it well. Face gone ghostly white, Yazoo’s features were frozen in a mixture of helpless anger and…hurt?

The chink in his armour – exposed like a raw nerve.

And Tifa revelled in the sight of what she had brought about.

_‘Have a taste of your own medicine, bastard.’_

With his nostrils flared and eyes flashing with a myriad of emotions, Yazoo looked as if he contemplated the most painful way to shove Tifa’s words back down her throat – preferably choking her in the process. Tifa sent him a glare of her own, daring him to try.

It was Yazoo who looked away first, the hint of a smile touching his lips. “But now you are alone, Tifa.” Facing her again, his gaze was calculating. He lifted his hand from her mouth, fingers tracing a path across her lips before coming to rest on her stubbornly-clenched jaw. “Utterly alone.”

Unease settled heavily in Tifa’s stomach. The seriousness in his words and expression was too blatant to ignore. She faltered – ever so slightly – and it was all Yazoo needed. 

Cupping her face in his hands, he leaned in. “What could you hope to accomplish on your own?” His breath whispered across her lips. “To defeat me?” The tip of his tongue brushed her jaw. “To end my existence?” A trail of open mouthed kisses seared the skin of her throat.    

Pain. Hot and sharp. It burned along her nerves, radiating in angry waves from where her nails had pierced through leather and sunk into the tender flesh of her palms.

It was a mad dance of pleasure and pain. They were twirling on a razor’s edge. And Tifa was swaying dangerously.

Yazoo’s hands slid into her hair, his questing lips finding the sensitive spot behind her ear, nipping and kissing it with abandon. “We’ve been here before, Tifa,” he smiled against her skin. “Back then, you showed me but a glimpse of what you’re capable of. Every cell in your body,” he moaned ecstatically, “suffused with burning hatred.” Slowly untangling his right hand, Yazoo let it glide over her cheek, her neck, her collarbone, coming to rest on the top of her scar. And all the while, his eyes never left hers. “It was…magnificent.”    

Tifa panted, conscious of fighting what appeared to be a losing battle. It was the poison of his words, the abhorrent touch on her skin – it coalesced into a giant maelstrom that simply swept her away.

“Magnificent”. Yazoo’s mouth latched on to her skin again, sucking gently. Tifa shook uncontrollably. His lips, his tongue, his hands, the sheer vibration of his voice dancing on her skin… _under her skin…_

His hand moved.

Slowly, oh so slowly, it traced the length of her scar, the feather-light touch of his fingers setting her ablaze.

“S-sto-st…” Finding it increasingly difficult to breathe, Tifa fought against primal urges that had her wanting to do anything but punch Yazoo into oblivion.

The bastard chuckled and Tifa’s eyes flew open. She didn’t bother wondering when she had closed them, her gaze drawn to the fingers splayed on her abdomen. “And it’s still there,” his words reverberated in her mind, “slumbering,” his hand inched lower, pressing hard into her flesh, ” _deep inside_.”

Tifa choked on a half-whimper-half-curse, deeply ashamed of the heat pooling low in her belly. Yazoo grinned smugly, his fingers resuming their exploration of her upper body. The sensual overload elicited a series of breathless, shuddering gasps.

Then, quick as a flash, the hand was back in her hair, gently tugging her head back. Tifa swallowed convulsively, her arms shooting up to steady herself on his chest. Yazoo lowered his face, his warm breath ghosting across the exposed arch of her throat. “Just imagine the feel of your blood beginning to race and awake what lies within you.”

Tifa exhaled shakily, gazing into the endless darkness that surrounded them. Seconds stretched to eternity. And then her hands started to roam the expanse of his chest, catching him by surprise. Surprise turned to pleasure and soon enough, Yazoo was purring contentedly. Tifa bit her lip, _hard_ , and let her right hand wander lower.

And lower.

And lower.

As if following a siren call, it slid over the strong plane of his stomach.

And lower still.

Focused on her goal, Tifa heard Yazoo’s breath hitch as though from far, far away. A small twist of her wrist and she reached out to took hold of the smooth hardness of Velvet Nightmare.

Wrapping her hand around the gun’s handle, Tifa felt Yazoo’s frame stiffen briefly before starting to shake with quiet laughter. He raised his head, easing his hold on her hair so that they might look at each other. Taking in Tifa’s dilated pupils, the grim line of her mouth, he smiled wickedly. “How tempting this must be. Go on,” there was a dark edge to his voice. “I know you want to.”

Her fingers twitched and a fierce look entered Tifa’s eyes. The mad pounding of her heart sounded strangely muted to her ears. There was a red haze clouding her mind, all of her senses focused on the hand clenched around the deadly weapon. It felt cold and heavy.

Tifa hesitated.

_Let go! Let go!_

She wanted to…

…and yet she didn’t.

In the end, it was the eager anticipation on Yazoo’s face that made her come to a decision. And the gravity of potential disaster left her wondering what had tipped the scales. Her sense of right and wrong that, as this incident had shown clearly, she could no longer trust? A reckless drive to spite Him?

Tifa found she didn’t care. She let go.

Instantly, Yazoo’s smile fell and he sighed exasperatedly. “Resist,” he growled low in his throat, his thumbs pressing into her temples, “while you can.”

As soon as he touched her skin, a flood of disjointed images began pouring into Tifa’s head. Gruesome images of Masamune’s blood-soaked blade _slicing maiming cleaving cutting tearing stabbing stabbingstabbingstabbingstabstabstabstabSTAB_

A horrified sound left Tifa’s throat and the pressure on her temples vanished, taking the images with it. Appalled, she blinked rapidly, trying to clear her sight. Reality drifted back into focus and Tifa sucked in a harsh breath when she found Yazoo’s face mere inches from her own. He had a wild, almost desperate air about him, his agitation clearly mirrored in his voice. “Before this is over, you will want me to bleed, suffer, _die!_ ”

And then, as if a switch had been flipped, the tension drained away. For a split second, Yazoo’s expression was unguarded, his eyes softened just the tiniest bit, as he said, “You will. You…must…for only then you can belong to me.”

_…belong…to me…_

Faster than a thought, Tifa’s hand had closed around the handle again, ripping the gun from its holster. She jumped back, creating enough distance between them to raise her arm and point the muzzle straight at his head.

She wavered for a single heartbeat.

Then she flung the weapon into the darkness. Far, far away.

The soft splashing sound of it hitting the water’s surface didn’t register. Tifa stood rigid, frozen in a state of self-imposed numbness. At this very moment, she didn’t dare move or _feel_ for fear that if she did, she would break into a million pieces. 

Darkness digging its claws into her heart, permeating it, spreading like cracks in the ice – this was the image Tifa saw in her mind’s eye. Tainted and corrupted beyond salvation, it would answer the call to His side.

Or so He believed.

“Whatever you want me to become,” her voice was a broken whisper, “it will never be.”

“Is that so?” Yazoo cocked his head contemplatively, a devilish grin curving his lips. “Oh Tifa, all that is needed is the right incentive…and a little push…”

He stepped aside and the darkness ripped apart. Tifa gasped, dazzling shafts of sunlight momentarily blurring her vision so badly that spots danced before her eyes. Once they had faded, she found herself staring open-mouthed at a man-sized gaping tear in the fabric of reality. ‘ _No’,_ Tifa corrected her assessment immediately. She looked through the tear, catching sight of familiar ruins under a cloudless blue sky and knew without the shadow of a doubt that ‘ _this is reality’._

Her gaze snapped to Yazoo, seeing him point at the tear with an inviting gesture, a silent challenge. “Come, see for yourself,” was all he said, before he blinked out of existence.

Tifa nearly sagged in relief, all of the built-up tension gradually draining out of her body now that he was gone. She took her time to compose herself before focussing on the tear again. The longer she looked at it, however, the more her elation began to ebb. A pervasive sense of foreboding seemed to emit from the illusive safety beyond the darkness, casting an ominous shadow over her only way of escape.

Freedom within reach, it was a warning Tifa’s mind was reluctant to heed…as reluctant as her body was to move and cross the threshold. She stood indecisive and torn, a full-blown war raging inside her, each side battling for dominance yet neither succeeding. So it came as no surprise when the puppet master pulled his strings a final time.

_“Come!”_

His tone was cold and ruthless, a command that would be obeyed.

And obey she did, her emotions subdued by the force it held. Step by halting step – her survival instinct begging her to _back away turn around run_ – Tifa approached the glaring gateway amidst the desolate nothingness with the crushing understanding that there was no other choice.

Whatever horrors might await her on the other side, she had to face them – and Tifa would be damned if she cowered away from reality, huddling like a child in the dark. It was this thought that pushed her forward and she covered the remaining distance with grim determination.

Steeling herself as best she could, Tifa walked into the light.


	5. Epilogue

The feeling of sunshine on her skin was phenomenal.

As if awakening from deep unconsciousness, Tifa was only too happy to enjoy the sensations flooding her body. And now that she had returned to full awareness, she was more than willing to banish this unexplainable but nightmarish experience into the realm of vivid imagination.

Perceiving her eyes to be closed, the young woman felt more than contented to remain thus for a little longer. This was a darkness not meant to scare, after all, but to savour the silence and the gentle breeze caressing her face.

It was then that a horrible stench reached her nostrils.

Tifa’s eyes shot open and the missing pieces fell into place.

_The inconceivable message of Sephiroth’s return_

_The summoning of Avalanche_

_Disbelief, agitation, fury, shock_

_Resolve_

_Their arrival at the Shinra building’s ruins_

One by one, the memories returned and Tifa was seized with panic. She remembered…

 _Sephiroth_

_Waiting and ready_

_Their rush into battle_

_Sephiroth’s gaze trained on her_

_Her body frozen in place_

_Her eyes held spellbound_

_Blackout_

_The Planet’s Core…_

Oh, blessed ignorance, cursed ignorance!

Realisation was like a red-hot knife plunged into her chest over and over again. 

_…voices…shouting…noise…_

They had fought.

_…clash of metal on metal…firing of gunshots…moans of pain…_

They had been slaughtered. 

 _…Masamune’s blood-soaked blade_ _slicing maiming cleaving cutting tearing stabbing…_

And she had witnessed it all, courtesy of their murderer.

Standing amidst the mutilated corpses of her friends – her _family_ – the viscous warmth sticking to her feet drew Tifa’s gaze downwards. 

_stabbingstabbingstabbingstabstabstabstabSTAB_

Her stomach heaved violently, a flood of tears running over the shaking fingers pressed to her mouth. They dripped with a soft splash into the pool of red she was standing in. Her eyes fastened on Cloud’s lifeblood, and Tifa inched back and away from the body of her dearest friend. Every squishing step she took ripped her heart to shreds. Then she stepped out of the puddle and crashed to her knees; both her hands were now pressed to her mouth – they weren’t enough to stifle the wail tearing out of her throat. 

 _…and a deadly blade…found its mark…piercing flesh and organs in a spray of blood…a pitiful gurgling sound…blood pooling in failing lungs…a gruesome death rattle…_

_That blade didn’t stab me but somebody else._

_Somebody else._

He had guarded her until the end. He had defended her helpless body while she had been playing games with his murderer.

He had given his life for her. 

Tifa wailed and screamed, the burning ache in her chest a gaping hole where her heart should be.

_‘Cloud!!!’_

The sudden flap of a giant wing had Tifa’s head shoot up in alarm. Standing exactly where she remembered him was Sephiroth, watching her with inscrutable eyes. Involuntarily, her gaze fell on the hated blade held casually at his side. Shiny and spotless, it reflected the sunlight in a mockery of unblemished purity. Tifa’s eyes stung, a fresh stream of tears leaving burning trails on ice-cold skin. Her grief, her despair, they were swept away, leaving behind something else entirely. 

He leaped at her then, Masamune descending in a silvery arch.

She didn’t move. She didn’t flinch. She didn’t blink.

Thirsting for the blood that seemed to be frozen in Tifa’s veins, steel vibrated with the need to kiss the skin of her exposed and vulnerable throat. 

And was denied.

Towering over her, Sephiroth’s face held the most peculiar expression, displaying a range of emotions Tifa would have never thought him capable of. “No,” he spoke quietly, “not you. Never you.” His eyes were distant and she wondered if he was talking to her, to himself or to the sword still resting against the flimsy barrier of flesh that separated it from the pulsating carotid beneath. 

Tifa’s right hand lifted and his gaze grew sharp, watching her taking hold of the blade with a white-knuckle grip. Uncaring of the blood welling between her fingers she rose and pushed it away. Excitement shot through Sephiroth’s body, his delighted gaze resting on the stony face and blazing eyes of this extraordinary female who would brave him until the end.

The martial artist bore the weight of his stare with the stoic calm of someone who had nothing to lose – when the sudden recollection of something Yazoo had said made both her mask and voice crack. 

_“Oh Tifa, all that is needed is the right incentive…and a little push…”_

Mangled, cold, _dead_ , the incentive was lying at her feet and Tifa realized the terrible truth of his words. Her resistance irretrievably broken, she gave in and clung to sanity no longer.

“I hate you so much.” Her eyes were burning with a feverish light. “I hate you so _so_ much!”

Sephiroth gave a deep throaty laugh. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Tifa had known hatred before but nothing like _this_. 

This was acid crawling through her veins – a destructive force in its wake which pervaded both body and mind. And Tifa welcomed it. With her darker instincts freed from their shackles, her tears had long since dried. Rage brought with it a strength unlike anything she had ever felt before and bloodlust reared its ugly head, begging to be sated.

The object of her dark desire observed his creation with genuine pride. All alone in this world, consumed and driven by hatred, living for revenge alone – Sephiroth was looking at his perfect match. 

Drawn by irresistible force, Tifa stepped towards her nemesis, his dark aura wrapping around her, welcoming her as if she were a long lost lover.

Breaths mingled. Lips touched.

And her old self emerged for the last time. 

Memories of happier times and places visualised in her mind’s eye. Emotions, thoughts – cherished and precious – all of them Tifa locked away in her heart of hearts. And then there was the weakly-glowing ember of a once brightly-shining light. She took it. And she buried it deep, deep within herself.

Fallen into oblivion, it would be safe from the touch of darkness. It would live on and…maybe…

Lips parted. Moist warmth turned to cold.

Their unholy kiss broken, Tifa wiped her mouth. Then she met his eyes straight-faced and spoke the words that would bring about their doom.

“I’ll make you bleed down at my feet.” 

Not a threat, but a solemn promise.  

A contented smile gracing his features, Sephiroth leaned back in and whispered,

“I’ll be waiting for you.”

 

**~ The End ~**

**...?**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wait, please. Don't go yet. Now that you've come this far you might want to spare a minute or two to re-read the prologue. Yes, the prologue - the beginning and true end of this story!
> 
> You have no idea what I'm talking about? Understandable, but trust me: keep the epilogue's ending in mind and read the prologue again. You'll see what I mean.
> 
> You think that's confusing, unusual, weird? Then I've achieved my goal :) I wanted to do things differently and...to play with my readers' mind. I guess Sephiroth has rubbed off on me...
> 
> Credit where credit is due. A big thank you for the tremendous work that was done 'backstage'. Moon Calf, you're the most amazing beta!
> 
> Last chance for you to leave a comment or kudos, dear readers. Needless to say, it would be very much appreciated if you did.


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